On Her Majesty's Magical Service
by CarlitaM
Summary: Being exiled after the War, Hermione felt her world crash down. Working her way up to being an agent of MI-7 was hard, but it gave her purpose. Her new relationship with fellow Agent Oliver Wood forces her to face the people, and the society, that abandoned her without a backward glance... as they try to unravel the plot that could change their lives forever. T for future content.
1. The First Meeting

After a rather long absence I find that I have the itch to publish a story once again. This time, it's a Oliver/Hermione pairing. I will be working this and The Witch Hidden in the Leaves at the same time, so updates will be relatively slow, not to mention that I am now married and living in a completely different country, so that takes a lot out of my day as well. This will start out as a kind of-ish spy-fic but will end up having less spy things and more of other stuff later on. Don't blame me, blame my muse. She's anti spies, apparently.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling and her overactive imagination. Kudos to her!

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**On Her Majesty's Magical Service**

**Chapter 1: The First Meeting**

The first time they met was in Paris.

Hermione slid through the opening silently, her leather covered body making no noise as she hung herself upside down with her hands. Two flicks of her head confirmed the office was empty, so she let herself fall gracefully to the ground, her feet making no noise as they impacted on the carpeted surface. She quickly went to the still life painting on the north wall. She swung it forward to reveal a small safe behind it. _Behind a portrait, so cliché_, she thought. She promptly unzipped the small leg pouch and took out the tools needed to crack it. _It isn't even a high security, state-of-the-art safe!_ Exasperated, she started the delicate process of cracking the combination. She was so absorbed in her work, she almost missed the quite two beeps she knew the electronic door gave 5 seconds before it opened up. Having no time to waste, she hurriedly closed the portrait, jumped on the desk and pulled herself up into the vent she had come in from. Just in time too, as just as her feet cleared the opening, the door opened. No time to replace it, she would just have to wait and hope that whoever was there—_at one in the bloody morning—_wouldn't notice it and would leave soon.

She had documents to steal, after all.

She was most surprised then, and had to stifle a gasp, when the person who entered wasn't a late working employee—not that she'd thought that for a second—or a security guard suddenly deciding to include this room in their checks.

No, it was a man, dressed in apparel very much like hers. Form fitting, opaque black leather body suit, and a mask that covered the top part of his face. His eyes shone with the reflected city lights, enough to know they were there, but not enough to let her see the colour. He made a sweep of the room, much as she had done, and she was pleased to see he didn't notice the missing ceiling vent. She silently scowled, though, when he made her way to the same painting she had.

She had a sinking feeling about this.

In the interest of not tangling with him unnecessarily—he might have been after the cash or another file—she decided to let him do the work. Hermione observed him, head hanging out of the ceiling opening to have a direct view of which file he swiped, until she heard the distinctive click that signalled the safe being opened. Seventeen seconds, not bad. Not bad at all. She almost cursed when he rifled through the files and his hands came away with a red flash drive. _The_ red flash drive. The flash drive she was here to steal.

Silent as a cat, she dropped from the ceiling again while he was distracted. Before he could put it away, she sent a vicious kick to the back of his knees. It wouldn't hurt him much, but it would destabilize him enough for her to try another manoeuvre. As predicted, his knees hit the carpeted floor, and she took the chance to attempt to get him in a chokehold. He was stronger than she had accounted for and in less than five seconds he had stood up, turned around and sent her flying with a beautiful hip throw. File now forgotten where it had fallen, he leapt after her to deal with the threat.

She deftly did a back-roll and got back up, nailing him under the chin with her feet on the way up. Taking advantage of his moment of dizziness, she aimed the heel of her palm—always her palm, her hands were too valuable to break while brawling—to his face. He dodged by bending backwards, lashing with his hand to try to clip her in the stomach. She had to half jump backwards awkwardly to avoid being hit, but it gave him the time needed to recover. He dropped to a crouch and lashed out with his leg, but she jumped over it, using the impulse to try a spin kick that he avoided.

_He's good_, she thought as she moved right to avoid his blow. _He's very good_. They moved seamlessly, as if dancing, not fighting. The two times she had managed to hit him, she had taken him completely by surprise. Her eyes shot to the flash drive on the floor a little to her right. If she could just get it and either distract him or daze him for five seconds, she'd be able to get away. She could jump back into the ventilation system where he couldn't follow. His shoulders were too broad, which was probably why he had had to infiltrate through the front door. Her lithe and slim form, on the other hand, had allowed her to crawl through the vents with no problem.

Her moment of distraction, though, cost her, and he managed to send her flying backwards with a well-placed kick to the stomach. She hit the shelf behind her with a resounding crack, making enough noise to wake the dead. They both froze, staring at each other in alarm. Up until then they had managed to keep their fight silent, both aware that any noise would compromise their mission. Now, it seemed, things would heat up. There was no way that floor security had not managed to hear that, and it would only take a few minutes before they determined which office the noise had come from. They both moved at the same time, but she was closer and faster. Her hands closed around the drive, and her feet shot out to catch him in the face.

That was her window. Not wasting any movement, she leapt on the desk and pulled herself up after sliding the file in. Once inside, she couldn't resist throwing a remark at him. He had, after all, given her a better workout than any of those pansies at the Agency. She turned around and peeked her head out of the vent to see him staring open-mouthed and wide eyed. "Thanks for the work-out and the file, Handsome. See ya!" with that, she blew him a kiss, winked and closed the vent. It wasn't as tight as she would've left it had she not been interrupted, but then again…

Not sparing a thought for the man, she made her escape. After all, her own agency wouldn't send a second agent with the same mission as her, and if he wasn't from her Agency, then she didn't give a shit. She backtracked through the vents to the elevator shaft, closed that access and took the stairs to the roof entrance. Once there it was a simple matter of roof hopping on to the adjacent building, and making her way down, changing her clothes as she went.

First thing to go was the mask. Second was her braid. While her hair wasn't as bushy as it once was, it still had a lot of body, but now rather than a crow's nest, she sported soft waves. She ducked down a corridor, making sure first that it was empty and started unzipping the suit. She left it down to her belly button and started running her fingers through her hair to loosen it up a bit. She then used a tissue from her leg pouch to remove her lipstick. She hated using such a distinctive, bright colour, but it was part of the look she had designed for her alter ego. Shamelessly "inspired by" Anne Hathaway's depiction of Catwoman from Dark Knight Rises, she even sported the ruby red lips and kitty ears. Finally arriving at the door to the bathroom, she ducked inside and after making sure she was alone, locked the door after her.

She entered the stall farthest from the door, the only one that had a tiny vent duct inside it, and after dislodging the cover, removed the bag she had placed there earlier. There, she replaced her bodysuit with a beautiful floor-length, royal blue, strapless dress made of a floaty material that complimented her figure. She stepped out of the stall and retouched her make-up. She took extra care that no red showed on her lips, instead she put on a gold-and-sand colour that went with her eye shadow. Satisfied, she took the file and put it in her purse for the party. With practiced movements, she folded her suit and severely reduced in size it went to her leg pouch, next to the unused safe-cracking tools.

She hurried downstairs and re-entered the hall where the party was now dying down. She checked the huge clock on the back wall. It was one thirty. Only 40 minutes to get in and out. Considering that she had had to fight Mr. Wide Shoulders there, she thought she had made pretty good time. It took her all of thirty seconds to locate her escort for the night, drunk out of his mind at the bar exactly where she had left him. She highly doubted he had even noticed her absence.

With a sniff, she made her way to him and shook him awake. "Cherie," she said in perfectly unaccented French. "I'll be going now." He waved her away, not caring that she still had half an hour on her contract. She doubted he'd remember tomorrow. Besides, the contract from the Escort Service was exclusively for company at the party, and it didn't look as if he needed anyone's company right now. She had barely managed to turn away and take two steps before she heard his head thump on the table. She didn't spare the glance back to confirm he had passed out again.

**~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~**

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was sweaty. The covers on her bed were tangled and bunched up at her feet. At first, she was confused, but then she remembered what—or rather whom—she had been dreaming about and blushed.

Her dreams had featured the broad shouldered man from the night before. _Get a grip, Hermione!_ She scolded herself. _It's not as if you'll ever see him again. Plenty of other fish—available fish, not non-British spy fish—in the sea._ With a sigh, she dragged herself out of the bedroom and in to the bathroom. Thankfully, as usual after a late night mission like the one the night before (with the drop-off and report included she had stayed up until well after three am), she had a free morning. Taking advantage of the hotel's huge bathtub, she drew herself a bath with scented oils and surrendered herself to the bliss that was her post-op ritual: warm bath with oils, good book and a chilled drink. Wine if evening, fruit juice if morning. Today she had a glass of fresh strawberry juice to help her relax.

Halfway through the bath she put her book away and started doing short stretches and trying to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. If she didn't she'd be in a whole lot of pain later, after last night's work out. It wasn't long before her eyes were closed and she was imagining a whole other set of hands running over her body. Her eyes snapped open when her hands were traveling down her middle and she realized what she was doing. Shaking her head to get rid of the images her mind was conjuring up—images of a well-toned, sculpted chest paired with a very sexy, broad pair of shoulders—she decided to cut her bath short and drained the water. Wrapping herself up in a big, fluffy towel, she headed out to get something to wear.

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Rather short, but here it is. My attempt at a spy-fic. The title sucks (yes I know, I say the same thing in all my stories), but bear with me, maybe the title-fairy will deign to visit me.

Reviews are food for the soul!

Cheers,

C!


	2. Point for Me!

Hi! Sorry for disappearing from this story, I kind of forgot I had it up xD

Longer chapter this time (though still quite short). Hopefully it measures up to your expectations :D

Disclaimer: I do not own, however much I wish I did.

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**Chapter 2: Point for Me!**

The second time they met was in Amsterdam.

Her room was in the fanciest Hotel in the city. She usually didn't get such lavish accommodations, but her target, a Russian weapons dealer, was staying there, thus so was she. She carefully anchored a safety line to the railing on her balcony and lowered herself to the one below. This night, the last night her target would be at the Hotel, was the only night her target had ever left the room alone. She approached the window and smiled at her luck. It was unlocked. She made her way inside and headed to the dresser where she knew she would find the DVD she came here for.

When she thought back on this night, she would have kicked herself for making such a rookie mistake.

A strong arm wrapped her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides, while a hand made her way over mouth. She froze.

"Fancy meeting you here, Kitten. You know, I got a lot of flak for coming back empty handed in Paris. My boss was very unhappy. First time I ever failed a retrieval."

With a sniff as if to say "not my problem" she tried wriggling to get out of his grasp, but his hold just tightened. "Ah, ah," he said, his breath hot on her ear. Had they been anywhere else, she might have thought the action seductive. As it was, she just found him annoying. "None of that now, Kitten. Now, you are going to be very quiet, I know that you want to get out of here undiscovered as much as I do, OK?" With a reluctant nod, she felt the hand covering her mouth lift slowly, as if prepared to muzzle her again should she scream. As if. He was right, she could not afford being found out. Still, maybe he would drop his guard and give her an opportunity to escape.

She wasn't so lucky, though, and in just a few seconds he had tied some plastic cuffs around her wrists. The arm holding her snaked back around her waist, pressing her against his body. "Now are you going to be a good little Kitten and let me do my job or are you going to kick me to high heavens the moment I let you go?"

"I'll be good," she said innocently. Not innocently enough, apparently, for the next thing she knew, he had clipped her on the side of the head, not hard enough to knock her out, but enough to dizzy her. When she came to, her feet were tied up with a tie that had been hanging on the chair. Her hands behind her back pretty much guaranteed she would be unable to free herself before he disappeared with the DVD. For some reason she had no doubt he was after the same thing she was, her night had not gone nearly good enough for her to think otherwise. True to her prediction, she saw him pocket the DVD and quietly close the drawer. She wiggled around a bit more, trying to get out of her ties, but her initial estimate had been correct. By the time she had freed herself he had already flashed her a smile—dazzling smile—saluted her, and jumped off to the next room. She had even had time to hear the next room's door open and close and she knew he had made his exit.

Unhappy, she managed to free herself from her bonds and proceeded to make her way back to her own room. She needed to make a quick exit too.

Now how was she going to explain to _her_ boss that she had failed a retrieval mission for the first time in her career?

Damn him. Him and his broad shoulders.

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**~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~**

* * *

They met an average of once every two months over the next two and some years. Sometimes it was twice a month, sometimes they went a couple of months without running into each other. She could not tell if her boss was amused or infuriated. As for her, it depended on who had won their last tussle. If it had been her, she would be both smug and amused. If it had been him, she would be annoyed and pretty much unapproachable for the first week.

Her boss had theorized, and she agreed with her, that he was an operative for another Agency, and not a freelancer or a thief as they had first thought. The information she was usually sent to steal was the type to take down Mob bosses and weapons dealers. Information on their providers and contacts. After a few misses on her part, they had realized that the targets she had lost the information on were being taken down regardless. Both her and her boss had relaxed at that. While they would have preferred to be the ones taking those targets out of commission themselves, as long as the job was being done, they were happy. They had been particularly afraid with two targets in the middle east—her seventh and eighth meeting with him. Had the other operative been working against them, the information contained in the disks he had made off with could have crippled her country and exposed several operatives working undercover in the area. Luckily, it seemed as whichever organization he was working for had the same aim as hers: rid the world of scum.

That is not to say her boss at MI-7 had not been severely disappointed and downright frightening when chewing her out. Hell, until the two insurgent leaders and their lackeys had been taken out she had been put on desk duty with the threat of being sent for retraining if anything happened. Unknown to her, IA had gone with a fine comb over all of her missions and contacts during that time to determine whether she was working with him and against her country in some way.

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**~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~oO*Oo~**

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"Please come in, Agent Granger." Her boss had summoned her to his office after another meeting with the other Agent. It couldn't be a reprimand, she had come out victorious two nights before when stealing the files she had been sent for…

She had been in Milan, infiltrating the manor of a very dangerous Mob boss, when they had run into each other inside the walk-in safe. She had, once again, crawled in from the ventilation duct—and seriously, who made those big enough to crawl through anymore—and had been in the process of looking through the numerous artefacts and files on the vault when said vault had opened.

She hadn't been quick enough to get back into the vent, so she had hidden behind the door, intent on surprising and disabling whoever walked in. It happened sometimes, that she had to disable guards who changed their patrol schedule or route. She preferred not to, she was not a combat and assassination specialist, she was a retrieval expert, though she had extensive training in both. She had let out an almost inaudible chuckle when she recognized the man now rifling through the same stacks she had been going through moments ago.

It had been loud enough for him to hear her, apparently, because his head whipped up and his dark blue eyes pierced her where she stood. "Hello, Kitten," he continued rifling through the stacks, as if she had just visited him in the office, and had not met him while committing a sanctioned robbery.

"Hello yourself. Here to try and even the score? What are we now, seven for six?"

"Six for six. Cairo counts as one."

She headed to the shelf right behind him and started looking through the stacks. Her intel, coming from a man on the inside, gave no clue as to exactly where the recording they were looking for—and there was no doubt they were after the same thing, they _always_ were—was in the vault. If things went true to form, whoever found it first would be attacked by the other in an attempt to make off with it, that is if they couldn't get out before the other Agent realized they had completed their objective. "You would say that. After all it was I who got away with the files that time, wasn't it? Two different files, two different locations, two points."

"One night, one building. One point."

"Men. You would count that as one, wouldn't you? After all, what would you know of _scoring_ _twice_ in one night?" She said cheekily. She still could not believe herself. It had started maybe the fourth or fifth time they had met. The subtle—and not so subtle—innuendos. The flirting. Frankly, it was driving her crazy. Every time they met, she would be left reeling from the adrenaline of the job and the excitement of flirting with someone who was as dangerous as she was. She had no doubt of that, too. She had fought against him, after all. It excited her in ways she had not thought possible. She had resigned herself to the fact that she was crushing on her not-so-fellow agent months ago. The way his voice made her shiver when he was pinning her against him, how his muscled rippled under the form-fitting suit they both wore.

Instantly, he was on her. One arm snaked around her waist, while the other moved her hair out of the way. She tensed slightly. He had never been as forward as this before. His breath tickled her ear when he spoke. "I know plenty about that, Kitten. Maybe you would like a demonstration sometime soon." He pressed his lips against her pulse point, no doubt feeling how it shot up with his proximity. Unbidden, one of her hands shot back to tangle itself in his dark hair. Short, spiky and deliciously soft, she ran it along his scalp, and was unable to repress the satisfied feeling that rose in her chest when she heard him sigh. She would have liked nothing more than to take him up on his offer, to finally see the face behind the mask, but they both had a job to do. So she let her hand fall and instead said, "Maybe next time, Handsome."

He froze for a fraction of a second and slowly, reluctantly took a step back. "Of course, Kitten. Job comes first. I still wish…"

"Yeah," she interrupted him quietly. "Me too."

It took another three minutes of searching before they, or rather he, hit payday. She was always able to tell when he found whatever it was they were looking for, he would stop moving and let out a small gasp. She didn't think he realized it, but it gave her the advantage. In an instant, she whirled around and her foot shot to his hand, making him drop the recording they had both come to acquire. As she dove for it, she could see him biting his lip to swallow the cry of pain.

She realized then, that she had a problem. He was between her and her escape route. She would have to exit through a window like he would have, but it would be infinitely more dangerous. Now that she thought about it, she had to wonder how he got in. The place was way too well secured to sneak in, she would know, she had studied the security extensively before deciding on using the ventilation duct. Even then, it had been a real pain getting to it undetected. All those thoughts went through her head in the three seconds it took him to regain composure. He had apparently gotten to the same conclusion as her, that he was blocking her exit, for his smile was nothing if not self-satisfied.

"Nowhere to run, Kitten? Give me the recording and I'll let you pass. You can get out of here safe and sound."

"And if I don't?"

He sighed. "Then I'll take it from you."

She smiled. "You could try," she answered and bolted. The first guard she came upon received a left hook that dropped him like a sack of potatoes. She made a left and then a right, only to come face to face with a door she soon discovered was closed. Cursing, she backtracked to find another way out, only to come face to face with him. A few punches, kicks and dodges later, he had the recording and was running back the way they came. She cursed and started following him. Suddenly, she heard a gunshot. Panicking now, for it could only be the other Agent in trouble, she ran faster. She saw him fighting two armed thugs. They must have heard them running or fighting and come to investigate. Not even thinking to take this chance to make her own exit, knowing deep down he would not have abandoned her had she been the one in that position, she joined the fight, catching one of the thugs with a well-placed kick to the stomach, sending him careening into the other one. Not wasting a moment, he took her hand and started running towards the vault. "This way," he whispered. "We can make an exit from the residential wing." He led her through a series of hallways until they came to a door. Silently he opened it and led her through just in time to hear the shouts of the guards discovering their two comrades. He pressed her against the door, one hand covering her mouth, the other on the doorknob. "Quiet."

She nodded and held her breath while they both heard the guards checking the corridor. For some reason, though, they skipped their room and Hermione breathed deeply once she heard them go past it without trying to open it. "Open the window, we're getting out."

Not wasting time to answer, she walked to the window and released the latch. When she turned back, she couldn't help but giggle at what he had in his hands. "A crossbow? Really?"

"If you have any other ideas, I'm all ears, Kitten." She shook her head and watched him work. With deft movements, he loaded the crossbow with a bolt she could see was attached to some metal cable. Soon, the bolt was flying through the air, embedding itself in the tall tree that was just outside the property line, and thus outside the electric fence. "I only have one harness, so you'll have to hold on tight." He quickly attached the cable to wall and the harness to the cable and prepared to slide out the window and towards freedom. He climbed on the sill, and turned, motioning for her to get close. "You'll have to wrap your legs around me, I'll need mine free so we don't crash into the tree." Very carefully, he wrapped his arms securely around her and asked her if she was ready.

"You're enjoying this way too much," was her only response.

"Yes, I am," he smiled and once he was sure she was holding on tight enough jumped off.

The ride couldn't have been more than five seconds, but it was enough for her to notice that he was indeed enjoying himself. The warm hardness she could feel pressed against her own private area was enough to tell her that.

Once back on the ground they ran a bit further in to the forest. Once Hermione realized they were close to where she had stashed her exit strategy—namely an Agency-issue bike—she dashed towards it.

She sat astride it and looked at him inquiringly. "Need a ride?" Her eyes twinkled at the double entendre, and she was sure had she really been asking the second question, he would have said yes. As it was, he only shook his head.

"I have my own exit near enough."

"Oh… Ok… I just wanted to…" She got no further for in that moment he had taken two steps towards her, grabbed her face in his hands and planted his lips on hers. She wasted no time in placing her hands on him, one on his chest trailing down to his sculpted abs, the other making its way to the back of his neck. His own hands were by now tangled in her hair.

His kiss was consuming. It was everything she had imagined and more. It was just like him. Rough and gentle and demanding. After a minute, they broke it off, their laboured breath mixing in the half-inch space between their lips. "I just wanted to thank you," she finished lamely.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to hers once more. "Consider me thanked."

She put her helmet on, turning away to take off her mask first. She turned the bike on and over the rumble said one last thing before taking off towards the road. "By the way, it was during the ride on the zip line."

She smiled, visualizing his disappointment when he realized she had made off with the recording. She only hoped he believed her when she had said she took it during the ride down and didn't think she had taken advantage of the kiss to do it. She almost felt bad about having picked his pocket for it, but as he himself had said in the vault, the job came first.

* * *

"Agent Granger!" With a start, she backed down from her memories and remembered where she was: Sophie Mason's, her boss', office, where she had been called for a meeting.

"I'm sorry ma'am. Didn't mean to zone out like that." She watched as her boss rubbed her perfectly manicured hand down her face.

"Of course you didn't. Take a seat, Hermione. I have… news."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"As you may or may not know," here she paused. Sophie knew very well that Agent Granger, in fact, _knew_. The woman knew everything that happened in the office, and she had a knack for finding out things way above her pay grade. "There was a meeting yesterday with the heads of the other MI cells. In spirit of the new cooperation initiative, each Agency revealed a, rather meagre I must admit, summary of their operations over the last few years. Wouldn't you be surprised when one other Cell Director and I almost choked when we saw what some of the other's operations were?"

Hermione had to bite her lip to contain her excitement. She couldn't be saying what she thought she was saying. She just couldn't. "Ma'am?"

"Hmm, yes. Let me read an excerpt to you. June 2005, operation codename: Swallow. Agent codename: Knight. With his information, the Agency was able to bring down a Russian weapons dealing ring responsible of supplying over 15 different terrorist organizations. January and February 2006, operation codename: Blue Rose. Agent codename: Knight. With the information recovered, the Agency was able to subdue two insurgent leaders in Syria who had ties to terrorist organization with grief against the UK. There are many more like these, but I think you get my point. Just in case you don't, both of those, same as several others, have a note at the end. Let me read that for you, too. 'Agent encountered friendly, but possibly foreign operative in the course of the mission after the same objective.' I would imagine that, just like we did not boast those times where he got one over us, they would not boast about those times when _you_ came out victorious in your little tussles." She looked up to see Hermione was shocked. She had been, as well, but had had time to process the information. Now, she enjoyed the chance to see her most composed, and possibly best, Agent, gaping like a fish.

"He's… He's MI?" All this time she had been worried about crushing on a foreign operative, she had never _ever_ considered he might be MI. Which was really stupid come to think of it. MI was a huge organization with cells that numbered from MI-1 to the mysterious and relatively new MI-13. She had thought, though, that the cells shared information between them so as to prevent occurrences like her own dilemma.

Obviously not.

Sophie watched as Hermione's shocked expression morphed into a happy smile. She knew, of course, that her Agent had had a massive crush on the mysterious operative. It was her job to know those things that might present a security threat. After they had determined the foreign operative to be friendly, she had let it go. As long as Hermione wouldn't go babbling to him, she saw no harm in her having a crush in him. "Now, in light of this new development, and because neither of our Agencies want to back off any of our investigations, together with the director of MI-13 we have decided to test both you and Agent Knight in a joint operation. Depending on the success of the operation, we might make you two permanent partners whenever we have objectives that coincide." Depending on the success and Hermione's own reaction to the news to exactly which branch of the government MI-13 was attached to. Frankly she had had trouble believing it herself sometimes. Had she not seen what she had…

"Yes, Ma'am. Have you decided on the mission yet?"

"Yes. It will take place a week from today in Venice. The details are," she handed Hermione a folder from her desk. "In this folder. I do not have to tell you that your identity must remain a secret until the final decision is made, do I?" She barely waited for Hermione to nod before continuing. "Both you and Agent Knight will remain anonymous to each other until the mission is complete. You won't even meet the MI-13 director, nor will Agent Knight meet me, until this is all done. Any questions?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Very well. One more thing. This test is to be able to discern if you two can work together despite your obvious attraction to each other. I know you are utterly professional, but I would be remiss not to warn you of this. MI-13 Director has assured me Agent Knight is their best operative, and will conduct himself with the utmost professionalism. I expect the same from you."

"Yes, Ma'am. Of course, Ma'am." Truth be told she was a bit miffed. _Of course_ she would be utterly professional.

* * *

AN: There you go, Chapter 2. Like I said in Ch1 updates on this will be much slower than my other fic (or than my first fic was). I think once a month or so. Sorry for those who want more, but I'm kind of very busy with other things on top of my other fic, so it is quite hard for me to work on this one. Reviews do make the creative process work faster :D

Cheers,

C.


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